Zandak stories often revolve around an important figure: Zazielix.

In the ancient past, long before The Fall, Zazielix went out on a hunt with her flock. The day was dark, the winds harsh, and the prey dangerous. But the flock needed to eat, so the flock needed to hunt.

On this day the beasts were on edge and fiercely defended their weak from the Zandak. During one of Zazielix's many attempts at scattering the pack, one of the beasts lunged up at her. It had been injured already, but it was resisting their neurotoxin with unexpected determination. Its attack caught her by her maw and one wing. She was quickly dragged from the sky, but not before her swift talons had a chance to lash out in response and finish her wounded assailant. They crumpled to the ground in a rolling heap of feathers and fur.

The flock, with great pains in their hearts, had to leave Zazielix's body behind during the scramble to get the meat home before the storm arrived.

The storm set in for four straight days, pelting them with its harsh rain and frigid winds, even as they took shelter.
When it finally cleared, they ventured back out to survey the area. The damage was extensive. Zazielix was nowhere to be found. The flock mourned, even as they worked to repair their nests and tend to their flockmates that were sickened or injured by the storm. But later that day, the wind carried a familiar contact call upon it, barely audible enough for the keenest ears to detect. The scouts leaped from their positions, carrying the hopes of the entire battered flock on their wings.

The first scout returned in mere minutes, breathless, but still singing a chorus of joy. Zazielix had survived!
She was frigid cold, so weak she had to be carried into camp and up to the shelters by pulleys, her face was half torn off, and she would never fly again. So happy the flock was to see her again, but so horrific was her condition! They wept on her behalf, for the rest of her life would no doubt be short, and filled with pain. But Zazielix persisted. She ascended and descended the nests using ropes and platforms, and she carved makeshift replacement beaks out of clay. They did not give her a true beak's function, but she wore them anyway for the sense of normalcy they provided.
She arranged flowers, cared for the young, maintained the nests, memorized and expanded upon her flock's oral history, and crafted the intricate and sacred headdresses worn by the flock's Navigators. She could always tell when a storm was coming, far in advance of the rest. She was frequently in pain. But never once did her spirit waver in its course.

It is for this reason, and many others, that Zazielix is revered. Her story is taught to the young as a lesson on the Zandak's duty to the Flock, and the Flock's duty to the Zandak.

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